Being Here, There, Everywhere

We are exceedingly grateful, we two, that we have recovered so nicely from our recent physical afflictions. Leaving us able to get on with our lives. Resume living normally. Able to undertake anything that we wish to do. Feeling normal; our energy levels restored to their previous state. And our desire to complete tasks that we had initiated before both falling ill, reasonably achievable, now. We do take so much for granted, but that's human nature.

We're fortunate, at our age, not to have any really dis-empowering illness, either of us. We are so accustomed to enjoying good health that it takes us somewhat by surprise when reality steps in to remind us that we're getting older - inexorably - with our recuperative capabilities a tad affected. Despite which, we have recuperated very well, both of us. Illness has the capacity, however, of rudely reminding us of our finite years.

It also jolts us awake to the beauty that surrounds us. The profound satisfaction we feel in living our lives. We seem more aware of everything in nature that surrounds us, delighting in all that we see, hear, smell and touch. For everything seems to touch us at a deeper level. As though we needed some kind of reminder of our good fortune, our good health and the deep pleasure we take in the lives we live.

Now, my husband is back to his work completing the large garden shed he began building in late summer. All the difficult work has been done, the shed itself erected, the roof shingles done, the soffit, and now the installation of the siding can re-commence. As for me, I have almost completed putting our gardens away for the winter. They barely resemble, but for the hardscape, the gardens we admire during the summer months.

The ravine too, has been steadily transformed. There, we take pleasure in viewing the landscape in an entirely different way. The bare bones of the tree trunks, and the full colour of the conifers remain intact, but the undergrowth of the forest floor has gradually disappeared, shrinking back into the earth, but for some hardy ferns, and everything is covered in a shifting blanket of colourful deciduous leafage.

So well covered that that we swish through the drying leaves, redolent of tannin, and blazing with yellows, reds, orange and burnt sienna. We see bright orange fungi clustered like something tantalizingly candy-like, on an old birch limb, lying on the ground as we pass through toward the end of our trail walk this most fortunate of days.